Chapter 1: The Cannon Fodder Siblings

I can still remember the first time I realized this, sitting in the softly lit Harris living room. The air felt thick with a tension only I could sense, like the echo of a story I was never meant to belong to.

The brother is gloomy and distant, drawn to the sunny, warm-hearted heroine.

He’d linger at the window, gaze distant, headphones slung around his neck, always seeming to drift somewhere just out of reach. He disappeared into his headphones, staring at the skyline like he was in his own indie movie.

The sister is sensitive and starved for love, willing to give everything for the male lead.

She’d twist her hair anxiously, keeping checking her phone, thumb hovering, hoping for a text that never came. There was an ache in the way she clung to small kindnesses, like she’d been left out in the cold for so long she couldn’t remember what warmth felt like.

They thought they had found salvation.

You could almost hear the hope in their voices those first weeks, the way they let their guard down just a little. It was fragile, but it was real.

Little did they know, the male and female leads only saw them as stepping stones.

If you listened closely, you’d catch the false notes—the too-bright smiles, the sidelong glances. Like a bad high school drama where everyone thinks they’re the star but someone always gets written out.

To keep my wealthy life, I decided to steal the roles of the main characters.

I wasn’t about to let anyone send me back to that alley. Whatever it took, I was staying put, and if that meant out-charming the leads, so be it.

When my brother was feeling world-weary again, I kissed his cheek.

I leaned in, smushing my chubby baby face against his five o’clock shadow, and planted a big, messy smooch right on his cheek. He stiffened, startled, like he’d forgotten what a little affection felt like.

"Hmm, soft and sweet. Bro, you’re squishier than a marshmallow."

I giggled, patting his arm for emphasis. The faintest twitch lifted the corner of his mouth—almost like he was fighting a losing battle with a smile. Even a brooding teen can’t resist a compliment like that from his baby sister.

No matter how cold a guy is, he’ll crack a smile at praise like that.

He grumbled, trying to hide it, but I saw his eyes go soft. Underneath that tough exterior, he was just a big marshmallow.

When my sister cried alone at midnight, I wailed right along with her.

I’d hear her muffled sobs through the nursery monitor, sneak out of my crib, and find her curled up in a blanket burrito. I’d crawl right up and let out my loudest wail, like a tiny siren joining her heartbreak choir.

"The pretty star is going to drown—what should we do?"

My words were more babble than sense, but I clung to her, determined to shine a little light into her darkness.

She broke into a smile through her tears, hugging me tight, unable to help herself.

She sniffled, pulling me into her lap, her laugh shaky but genuine. For the first time that night, the loneliness eased—just a little.

Later, the main couple—who couldn’t get anyone to hang out with them—grew anxious and came looking for us—

You should’ve seen their faces when they realized the Harris twins had their own orbit now. High school royalty, suddenly left out of the group chat.

Only to find the brother and sister staying up all night helping me finish my kindergarten craft homework.

There they were, glue sticks in hand, covered in glitter and construction paper scraps, arguing over whether my stick-figure family needed googly eyes. It was messy, chaotic, and more real than anything the leads could manufacture.